


Breaking Point

by oshi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - No Prophecy (Final Fantasy XV), Assassin Prompto Argentum, Competent Prompto Argentum, Conditioning, Darkfic, I had an idea that this would end up hurt/comfort, It's more out of convenience that anything, Kind of Prompto Argentum/Nyx Ulric but only if you squint., Torture, and wouldn't know comfort if it plowed into me with a truck, but I'm only good at hurt, he isn't just some happy sunshine child, he's a real soldier fighting a real war, i am the reason i cannot have nice things, i dont think people are ooc but here's a warning just in case, i feel remorse but im not sure what for, just you know all in the shadows-y, prompto is also kind of not all there???, starring: my choppy fucking writing style, theres like mild references to the, this ended up darker than i thought it would turn out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oshi/pseuds/oshi
Summary: She's set somewhere between soft and thin, not toned enough to seem like a threat and very obviously doesn't stand in a way that presents as military. In fact, if Promptodidn'tknow better he'd wonder who this woman was, and who shethoughtshe was talking so casually to the Marshal of the Crownsguard, in front of theKing.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Cor Leonis, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum & Nyx Ulric, Prompto Argentum & Original Female Character(s), Prompto Argentum & Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately for everyone involved here my writing style is still choppy as fuck but I heard somewhere once that you need to write the fanfiction you want to see in the world. So, here's my take on competent Prompto being more than the comic relief. Feel free to criticize and what have you- I have been gone for like... four years.
> 
> Also, this is all a general disclaimer that I don't actually know how shit like this works much less the human anatomy. So... Yeah.

“Hmmm...” Her voice is quiet and soft. He likes her voice, the rises and falls of the cadence. Even when he's done something wrong her voice holds no anger. “Unfortunately he's seen me work Cor, I don't think I'll get much out of him.” She's short, shorter than most at only five-five. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a bun that sets neatly atop her head and Prompto can imagine the way her brown eyes narrow behind her thin framed glasses. She's set somewhere between soft and thin, not toned enough to seem like a threat and very obviously doesn't stand in a way that presents as military. In fact, if Prompto _didn't_ know better he'd wonder who this woman was, and who she _thought_ she was talking so casually to the Marshal of the Crownsguard, in front of the _King_.

But Prompto knows.

“Could you at least try?” Cor Leonis is six foot three inches of muscle and military precision. He cuts a startling difference to the tiny woman to his left. But, it's to her that he differs. She looks up at him, smiling all teeth and laughter.

“Do you even want to know anything in particular? He's been caught red handed.” 

“I could think of some things.” It's an idle wandering of thoughts. It's casual and out of place in the throne room. King Regis sits elbows on knees, hands under his chin as he surveys the man under scrutiny. 

The woman turns to her King and bows. “Well, Your Majesty. In the meantime, why don't we get our guest comfortable.” There's kindness to her words, a soft gentle inflection that juxtaposes the blood Prompto knows has been on her hands. She turns to the right side of the throne where Prompto stands. He's pushed back a bit, taking all his lessons to heart. He stands leaning against the wall, letting himself _become_ the wall. Gladiolus stands tall at parade rest and even Ignis is stock still, eyes locked on the woman. Noctis, Prince Noctis, _Crown Prince Noctis_ who had _almost been assassinated_ is sitting on the floor between them.

It's not everyday the leader of the Kingsglaive turns out to be a traitor. On the left side of the throne room, hastily set up is a myriad of chairs for various council members to sit on. But there's more, people that trusted Titus Drautos- _Glauca_ \- the most. Most of the room is in shocked silence. But she's casual and soft and _no one understands why Cor Leonis brought her in_. But Prompto does.

“Well, dear? He knows what I'm capable of, but I don't think he knows about you.” Prompto pulls himself away from the wall and sidesteps around his comrades. Sidesteps a raggedly breathing Noctis _-Prince Noctis, CROWN PRINCE NOCTIS-_ and lets out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. He smiles back at her, he loves her. He does really, the only trainer he's ever had that's been so kind and _gentle_ with him.

Cor looks between the two of them and after a moment nods. “I'll get your tools.” And just like that, all eyes are on Prompto.

* * *

People have been coming to him to make deals for years now. Sometimes they want him to put in a word here or get something done there but Prompto's always said no. Acted indifferent to it all, pretending that the people never asked. It's a blessing and a curse in his experience. Either people mercifully get the hint and they can continue to do whatever they need to do or they don't.

He remembers the first person who asked him for information. It was a girl, they were fifteen and Prompto thinks she had red hair. The faces start to blend into each other and honestly Prompto has never been one to make note. But after he started his Crownsguard training things changed.

People don't _ask_ for anything so much as _resent_ him for existing. He knows that other trainee's get together after hours and spend a lot of time decompressing. He knows there's a bar about half an hour from the Citadel that the group he's training with frequent. He knows that they whisper he's going to pass the training because of who he knows and not what he can do. He knows, well, a lot. Prompto's smaller and people talk and when a group of guys decides to try to one up each other voices get raised.

It's not like anything they say is new.

But Cor Leonis is. Prompto was listening to one of the self-proclaimed Alpha's, Donnie, Denny?, Something with a D and then suddenly there's silence. So like everyone else, he looks. And there he is, tall and imposing. Prompto likes Cor, sure he's never actually _met_ the guy but he likes the way he holds himself. Respects it and even envies it a bit. Prompto doesn't think he'll ever have that kind of aura. But Cor Leonis, in all his Immortal glory makes a brief pass of the changing trainee's and lands on Prompto. His eyes could be cut from titanium with how hard they are.

“Argentum, my office, ten minutes.” His voice is strange. There's that touch of cold supervisor- the by-product of anyone whose ever been in charge of anything. But... there's something else. Something almost curious in his voice.

But he turns back around and leaves as quickly as he entered. Prompto finishes changing as soon as he can after, probably not good to leave that man waiting. As he leaves a chorus of whispers follow him. _'-gonna get canned? Why would-', '-don't know what you think-', '-why common dirt shouldn't be-', 'kill him? Considering the Prince-', 'please like he's gonna waste anymore time-', '-get handed everything but at least we don't-', '-wasting the Immortals time-'_ and Prompto leaves earshot just as Decker? Darius- _Whoever_ says “Well, not even the Prince can stop the Immortal.”

But he walks leisurely because he **hasn't** been handed everything and even if he can't help but flinch at the words and stumble during hand to hand combat Prompto knows he's _good_. So if Cor Leonis wants to see him, there's a good reason.

He waits outside the door for the last three minutes before knocking. He's ushered inside by Cor himself and then, surprisingly, Cor stands in front of the door and watches him. Prompto looks around quickly and sees why. She's small and unassuming and she _has her feet kicked up on the Marshals desk_. He blinks, surprised and going through several series of confusion before she laughs. “Oh yes, you'll do nicely. So expressive! That's so important for people like me.” Her smile broadens, “Like _us_ hopefully.”

Prompto slowly sits across from her, feeling out of his depth and confused. “Uhh,” She has a nice smile-but the longer Prompto looks right at her the less nice it seems. There's too much teeth and it reaches her eyes but in the **wrong** way. “What do you mean?” Then remembering his manners, “I'm sorry, my name is-”

“I know what your name is.” She's no longer a delicate face with a slash of teeth cutting it open. “Know that I have no name, and should you choose to follow my path, eventually, neither will you.”

“I don't understand.”

“We never do, at first.” She laughs when she talks. It's startling and Prompto looks to the Marshal for some sense of **what is going on** but he's staring right at Prompto- face impassive. “Understand child that I'm what you'd consider a necessary evil.” She has his attention again. “I help the Marshal get the information he needs to protect and serve the Crown. You, specifically, have been chosen as a possible _protégé_ , because of your relationship to Prince Noctis.”

Prompto swallows dryly. He doesn't quite understand what that means and the seventy five percent of him that is anxiety is starting to rear it's ugly head.

“You love him.” It's a statement, not a question. A fact falling from a strangers lips and dropped onto the desk between them and Prompto looks back at the Marshal again because **_what the fuck is going on_** and she continues. “It's good, wonderful that you love him. It's easiest to serve someone the way you'll learn to when you love the person you serve so wholeheartedly.” 

Cor Leonis' eyes never leave Prompto. Later, after he's been filled in on exactly what she wants from him and after a deliberation in which he realized he was, in fact, _somehow_ , the best person for the job he realizes that if he had declined her offer he never would have left that room alive.

* * *

Glauca's eyes narrow and he spits at Prompto when he walks closer. “I'll never talk.” It's rumbled deep in the mans throat and hissed out between clenched teeth. Prompto tilts his head to the side, exaggeratedly so. But he doesn't say anything. It was one of her first lessons after all.

* * *

“I don't have a name in this room. At all really, but we're going to start small with you.” She smiles, no teeth just an upturn of the lips. He's been meeting her everyday for three hours in the morning, forsaking hand to hand to learn the intricacies of what she plans to teach him. “When _you_ are in this room, neither do you.”

Prompto nods, “What do I call you then? What... what do you call me?” His eyes fall to the ground, “What does anyone call me?” It's softer, almost lost in the silence of the truth between them.

“Do you understand why I gave you your file? Why I told you everything? Why, even though the Marshal thought it poor of me, I made you realize what you are?” _Red eyes, black blood and a barcode etched on his wrist, down far, barcoded on his **bones**._ He meets her eyes again and shakes his head. “I did it so you would _know_ what you are. Wear what you are with pride boy.” She spits this part out, venomous suddenly, “No one can use your truth against you if you recognize it for what it is.”

He's conflicted though. Finding out he was supposed to be a _machine_ , finding out that he's a clone-but not far enough removed from the scientist that made him-that he'd pass as the mans _child_ confuses and alarms him. What Magitek units truly are, scares him.

“You're doing it again darling,” Prompto removes his eyes from the floor and looks at the general direction of her face. “It's alright if you haven't accepted it yet. It'll be time yet before we have to worry about it. But you _need_ to be more observant of your surroundings. I know you're perceptive. I've seen you on the shooting range. Not everyone realizes there's a target on the ceiling. But you find it, every time, no matter where they hide it. You see things others don't. But only if you _pay attention_.” She's right of course. So Prompto takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Compartmentalize, got it.”

The smile she gives him is a real one, soft and loving. “The first thing you need to know about is managing expectations. People will posture and pretend to be tough, defiant even. But if you are called into a room, if you are asked to be present? Throw all of that garbage out the window. _Prompto_ can be an aggravating little shit.” He huffs a laugh at that, “But you cannot be. There are no real appearances when it comes to what we do. But I find an open and direct approach to what's going to happen is best. Don't try to be anything other than what you are dear. You've got training and yes, you're a wonderful shot, but you're unassuming. Small and quiet and I need you to capitalize on that. You do well when you run, stop that. Do enough to pass yes, but make sure you're in the lower percentile. Don't use every opening presented to you. Don't make others see you for what you truly are until the moment before they realize they never should have crossed you.” She shakes her head, sadness seeming to radiate off of her in waves. “Too many good people let others know _how good_ they are and have gotten killed for it.” She almost, for a moment, looks like she'll cry. “One day, Cor will walk out of my life and never walk back into it.”

It's sobering suddenly. That he's only _The Immortal_ because so many assassination attempts have failed.

“So throw out all of the trashy movie clichés. Throw out all of your preconceived notions of how something like this should work. You are _never_ in control, darling, and you are the _only_ one in control.”

It's hours later before he realizes he never got an answer on what to call her.

* * *

When Cor comes back it's with a tool box and a straight backed chair. Glauca is chained to it, unceremoniously, and _Prompto_ would laugh. He dwarfs it, half ripped out of his armor and one hundred percent at the Crowns mercy.

“Are you sure about this?” Cor asks her one last time. But she smiles at him and laughs, a trilling sound that echoes uncomfortably in the large cavern that is this room. 

“Of course sweetheart, why don't we take a seat and enjoy the show? Hmm?” She links arms with him and leads him over to several very uncomfortable council members. The implication is obvious enough. This is his show.

“Does the Crown really think the Princes little pet can make me talk?” It's said with arrogance, a high tilt to the words. Glauca wants everyone to hear that he won't talk. He won't answer any questions. But he finally lifts his head from where it was tilted, finishes studying the way the man in front of him favors his left side and waits patiently for permission to begin. Every passing moment the tense air tightens and weighs heavier. Eventually, the King speaks.

“I don't have any questions yet, but, please, welcome our guest.” _Prompto_ would turn and bow to his king, _Prompto_ would worry about how this is **not** how he wanted Noct, or _anyone_ to find out about this... but... He's curious about why Glauca is favoring his side. His right leg is pulled farther away from him. Resting almost against the chair, as if hoping it'll be overlooked. He slowly, carefully, walks around the man chained before him and examines what he's been given.

Humans, after all, are beautiful machines.

* * *

He pukes after the first time he's involved, however removed he is, from his new line of work. It's... not what he was expecting. She told him to throw away all his ideas and notions but this... **This** was something else entirely. But she's cleaning up his vomit and whispering encouragingly to him. “That's all right, darling, get it out. Better out than forced down. Oh, sweetness, you poor thing.” 

Eventually he gets a hold of himself and apologizes. “I don't know why I expected that to be different.” It's not a question but it's not a statement. But she _gets_ it. She does and he adores her for it.

“None of us are prepared the first time we work in the garage honey.” She hands him a mop, and gathers some more cleaning supplies to start wiping down the table. “I think you did very well. You managed to hold back until everyone important left. That's a mark in your favor darling. I personally didn't last nearly as long as you.”

She praises him and chastises him the same way. With a comparison to how well she did learning. Prompto would take it as a win but he has a feeling she started a lot younger that he is. He's seventeen and green sure but he's been through his own little wringer already. But, despite his horror, he's... curious. “How did you know what mark to hit?” It had been impressive. Total, they had been engaged with the gentleman they were... _coaxing_ information out of for an hour. In one hour she had done what three weeks of interrogation had failed to do.

“Oh darling, I'm so glad you asked. It shows a level of comfort you know.” She pauses from the puddle she's cleaning. “But I sense you have ulterior motives?” Sometimes, Prompto thinks she's a mind reader. That she can see right through him. But...

“It was like... when I'm trying to fix something, when I first started out I always went for the obvious things but that rarely worked for the stuff that was brought to me. So I had to individually diagnose and take apart every little thing. It's nice, a challenge, but I always had to categorize things first. You just... _knew_ where to go. How?”

“Well that's our next lesson then darling.” They clean the rest of the night in silence and the next day she gives him two large books. Ones of the human anatomy, well worn with dogeared pages. As he flips through he sees notation and explanations of how certain tactics effect the body. The second book is larger and heavier and Prompto realizes it's less a text and more several texts and notebooks all stapled together. He skims the first few pages. It's about psychological conditioning and physical clues. She smiles widely, teeth too white and large against her tiny face, “It's a page-turner.” 

Prompto can't help but feel he made the right decision to read this book first when she runs her hand through his hair. It's an encouraging touch and three hundred pages in he realizes she's been conditioning him to be okay with what he's learning to do since she first met him. He takes several minutes to think about it, think about his place in the grand scheme of things and decides he doesn't mind. She's kind and gentle and he **loves** her like the mother he's never had.

* * *

He starts by gently removing the armor of Glaucas leg. There's damage here, he can tell and Glauca jerks, a belated- attempted retraction- at acknowledging a weak spot. 

“Prom?” Noctis' voice is small, echoing around the chamber. It's funny to him, he's been in this room when people wouldn't stop talking over each other. When even the King has had to raise his voice but there's so much silence here. It's like being in the garage.

Glauca's leg is lashed to the foot on the chair, chained like the rest of him. It makes getting the twisted piece of metal off difficult but not hard. The man grunts though, angry, to cover the sound of pain. He seethes, hissing empty threats as he works.

Eventually though, “I told you, I won't talk.” Glauca's sucking in deep, even breaths. _He's afraid_ , he thinks idly. 

So he smiles, all dimples and freckles and _teeth_ just the was she taught him. “That's okay. You don't have to talk-if you don't wanna.” He says it earnestly, kindly. It's the truth. The King hasn't yet asked a question so he doesn't need an answer. 

Hands run down the gouged muscle of Glauca's calf and the toolbox is opened. He's always wondered what the human body looks like after it's been pulled apart. There's pictures sure, descriptions and notations and he'd even sat in on several medical procedures when he was trying to familiarize himself with the idea of _blood_ in general. But there was always something in the way; doctors, nurses, scrubs, walls, glass, skin, tendons, muscle.

He wants to know what bones looks like cleaned up and laid bare for all to see. The texts describe them in completion and he's handled fossils and teeth but this is different. There's a curl of excitement in his stomach, because-because... he can do it. He can pull every bone out of this foot and clean them all and lay them bare and see how they connect to one another and it's exhilarating in a way he didn't know he could _be_ exhilarated. 

He ties a tourniquet above Glauca's knee and the man snorts. “Giving me first aid? Pathetic.”

Whispered, through a tunnel, so low, away, so far away, Noctis' voice- “Prom?” Once more.

He takes out a hammer and a flat head screwdriver. _He wants that kneecap **off**._

* * *

He visits her house once the first year. It's... also Cors house. Because she doesn't have a name but as far as the law is concerned she's a Leonis. Married and everything. It fits in a way, to have both of the most terrifying people Prompto has ever met together. The house is devoid of personality and mostly empty besides where they both usually reside. The bedroom presumably and kitchen, one side of the couch. The rest of the house would probably be covered in a layer of dust if Prompto didn't know and understand her cleaning habits.

But he's not here to see her, Cor Leonis sent for him. He's once again ushered into a study and Cor, once again... decorates the wall. Standing tall and silent against the door. But she isn't behind the desk.

The King is.

There's no preamble, no introductions, the King waves for him to sit and says “He'll hate what you've become long before he understands why it's necessary.”

Prompto blinks, because that's not what he was expecting. “He's going to expel you from his armiger, possibly even try to pretend you never existed.” There's a self-deprecating laugh, “That's what I did.” The King, who looks less like a King right now and more of just a tired father stares at his hands for a moment. “I'm told she told you about-” and the man across from him just gestures, to all of Prompto.

“Yes.” It's clear and concise. Prompto is almost proud that his voice didn't squeak or crack embarrassingly.

“We, Cor and I, wanted you to have a normal life. We gave you to people who should have been good parents and made sure you were set up to have everything you ever needed.” King Regis rubs his hand over his face and the King facade cracks apart completely. “We failed, obviously.”

There's several tense moments and Prompto looks from Regis to Cor and back. Neither one of them is looking him in the eyes. Cor is staring somewhere a little to the left of him and Regis is staring at the desk.

“Noctis loves you.”

“Yes.”

“You love Noctis.”

“Yes.”

“I'm the one who suggested you for this role.” Eye contact, clear words and enunciation evenly tempered. “Because you love him, and because you've done nothing but prove loyal even after everyone who should have loved and taken care of you turned away.” He pulls out multiple sets of papers. Slides them to Prompto. It's a list, a collection of every unanswered text message and call he's ever sent his parents. Every text message ends with _I love you_ or _Stay safe_ or _Have a good trip_ and if there were recorded logs of the countless voicemails he's left there's be a lot more of the same.

They weren't the best, a little too absent, but they always made sure he had what he physically needed. He loves them, they're his parents.

“When he pushes you away I only hope you show the same loyalty and dedication to him that you do the people who've abandoned you.”

“You... seem certain he's going to push me away.” Prompto glances to Cor. “All of you do,” and a thought strikes suddenly, “Is this why she doesn't have a name?”

“Yes.” And Cor _hisses_ it. Staring at Regis and glaring just enough to make Prompto aware this is an old argument. “A young and reckless Price Regis stripped one of his retainers of everything she was because she dared to fill a position he didn't know needed filling.”

King Regis takes the accusation, “I've given my apologies and tried to right the wrongs of my past. I offered to undo everything I did, she refused and you _know_ why.” A beat of silence. “I'm sorry Cor, for everything I've put you through, and I'm sorry Prompto. For everything my son will put you through.” His voice catches and Prompto realizes the king, The King, is crying. “Please, continue to be loyal, to love-”

But Prompto cuts him off. “For King and Crown, right?”

* * *

Kneecaps are _weird_. But, a good weird. They're... not as hard as he thought which makes sense since they're mostly cartilage and not bone but he still expected something... more. So he cleans it off as best he can and ignores the pained, panicked breaths above him. Glauca had not expected that and judging by the retching, neither had someone else. The actual bones of the knee are a different shade than the cap itself. Or is it exposure to the air? The fact that there's less blood now? He takes his time digging out a tendon that had held the kneecap in place. Every time he touches something there's a steadier trickle of blood and grunt, or whine. Pained and angry.

Glauca didn't expect this and he's _scared_. She was right, be unassuming. Almost fail everything and people will only ever see a failure. He's a sniper and a crackshot and he can rip apart and build up anything mechanical. But he's been a borderline failure for years now unable to fight with anything bladed, useless in a one on one fight, he's never been good with anything that isn't at least part machine.

But... the human body _is_ mechanical. It's just... bio-mechanical. He likes a challenge though, so he rips the tendon off the bone he wants to examine next. This time, Glauca doesn't quite stifle the sound.

He hears retching again.

* * *

It's been a year of steady lessons before he gets call to Cor Leonis' office the third time. He walks down the hallways, humming to himself and wonders who Cor will decorate the wall for this time. 

No one, it turns out, as he sits himself behind his own desk for once. Prompto is intrigued and almost amused at himself for not being intimidated. He should be, but, well, she's scarier.

“Ignis was considered for this role first.”

And Prompto snorts. “Ignis? Ignis would pitch a fit any time blood got on his shirt.” It's a mean statement but the man in meticulous and clean and everything etiquette demands. Cor nods though, sighing. “And... isn't he a little too...” Prompto struggles for the right wording. “Refined?” It's not quite the right word but it'll do.

But Cor nods like he understands completely. “He also has a hard time saying no to the Prince and as well as he herds him around has a soft spot for him. But the kind of soft spot that'll get him assassinated at the arcade.” Prompto hums thoughtfully. He's never actually thought about the dangers of Noctis leaving the Citidel.

“There's danger everywhere, huh?”

“Yes,” Cors voice is low and soft and for a moment it feels like he's having a conversation with someone else, before, “Regis only gave you half the reason you were chosen. You're a sniper, an assassin at heart. Gladiolus can smash people into paste and Ignis can make precise, deep enough cuts to have people bleeding out in minutes but you... You have the ability to hit the enemy before they see you.” Cor looks Prompto in the eye and there's something akin to respect reflected back at Prompto. “ _You're_ dangerous.”

They share a few moments in companionable silence. Prompto thinks Cor likes him. He's learning from his wife after all and although he has seen them together less times than he has fingers there's... love there. A lingering touch and an easy relaxed stance but it's so loud on Cor's closed persona.

“We have a man waiting in the garage for you.” Cor starts, pulling Prompto out of his musing. “Tried to kidnap Iris Amicitia. Part of a bigger plot to uproot Gladiolus' loyalties and, eventually, get to the Prince. She thinks you're ready to take the lead. She'll be your assistant.”

“The usual then?” Prompto pulls his phone out to cancel some plans with Noctis, “You know he's gonna try to make _you_ do wall duty one of these days.”

There's a snort and Cor says, irreverently as ever, “I'll be there in half an hour. Try to look like I told you to clean the basement with a toothbrush or something.”

* * *

There are tears streaming down Glaucas face. He's holding in most of the pain, letting it sit closed in his throat, but, he doesn't care. He's enamored by the way the fibula and tibia connect. He's not quite sure which side is which but he's _holding them_. Reverently. He takes a cloth out of his toolbox and starts to clean the bone. He cleans it as Glauca starts to pass out. He frowns and reaches into the armiger for Ignis' supply. He grabs a potion and pours it over the mess he's made of Glaucas leg. 

The man grunts, still in pain but now much more lucid. _Good_. He thinks. He spends time cleaning the bone and searching for remnants of past breaks. There are quite a few, a smattering of thin lines and uneven rivets. He sets the bone aside thoughtfully. The potion has stalled most of the bleeding from the tourniquet, but thankfully hasn't closed Glauca's connection with his foot. He wants this man to hurt but he also wants to explore his anatomy. Small favors from the Astrals that he can do both.

“Do you know what you are boy?” The words are hissed though Glaucas teeth. He looks up at him, and smiles, warmly.

“Do you?” He's teasing, he can't help it. He's a lot of things right now and isn't sure what Glauca will settle on.

“You're an escaped lab specimen. You're nothing but an MT base clone!” He snarls it, finally getting defensive by going offensive. Glauca thinks he can crack _Prompto_ open. But he isn't _Prompto_ here.

He feels his smile growing kinder suddenly and sets his hand on Glaucas mangled kneecap-less leg. He pats it, in a way that might have been comforting but is horrifying when there's a steady stream of blood working its way down fingers in between remnants of leg muscle. He reaches up and pushes sweat sticky hair behind the ear of a man everyone in this room once trusted and feels for his temperature. It's not high but the sweat makes him feel hotter than he is. He looks Glauca deep in the eyes, wants him to understand what is said next to the bare truth it is, “Yes, I know. Anything else,” and a page from her book, “sweetheart?”

He's vaguely aware of someone asking sharp pointed questions but the dawning look of horror in Glauca's eyes has him enraptured. Glauca thought he didn't know or maybe that he could sway him with wayward coding-but, but- But. None of this is the case. He smiles at the now obviously confused man and kneels back down towards his foot. But Glauca broke the silence first-now... Now he can _talk_. “Do you think I can get all the bones in your foot out without breaking the cartilage connecting them?”

He hears more retching.

* * *

After two years of steady tutelage King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII calls for a meeting with Prompto through Cor. He's more familiar with the home of his teacher and more than comfortable behind closed doors with the Marshal. Comfortable enough to even ask, “Why are you always standing against the door? There's like three more chairs in here.” But Cor raises an eyebrow and remains as closed off as ever.

Prompto sighs and sits across from the king. “Your Majesty, I'm sorry I'm late. Noctis was trying to get me to cancel. I had to tell him it was about my graduation to get him to stop.”

The King nods and hums thoughtfully. “I want you to understand that even though tomorrow you become full fledged Crownsguard to Noctis your studies will continue.”

Prompto sits straighter. “Yes, I told Noctis that I wanted to continue into specified training for mechanics and that I'd still be studying and training during certain times.” King Regis relaxes as the affirmative is given. “I've been told that my training won't be complete until she says it is, so I figured I have a long while to go still.”

“No.” Cor speaks up. “Your first set of tests are going to start soon. You have a while to go before you're completely finished but, consider yourself half way there. That's why you were called in today. What happens when someone like you needs a test subject is what we like to call a learning experience for those who feel 'immersive' field training is a boon.” He shuffles a bit, foot to foot. “The individuals chosen will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement and multiple waivers before they ever see your face but it'll be training for all of you.”

“People... apply for this?”

“What Cor means to say is that we need a pool of knowledge in which we already know the truth to test you against. I can throw anyone in front of you but if they give you bad information it could be life and death. The people who have volunteered for this exercise understand that it is highly immersive simulated interrogation scenarios.” King Regis' voice is stoic, “They have to go through several physical and psychological screenings to even be considered and there will be rules for you. The most important being that you cannot leave lasting damage to these people.”

A thought worms its way into Prompto's brain. “The people... They're... 'guard and 'glaive aren't they?”

A nod, “After they sign the non-disclosure they will be filled in on what will happen. They will have the opportunity to bow out then. We aren't going to force people into this without due knowledge.” A pause, “We already have the comprehensive list prepared as well. Six people from various backgrounds and walks of life to test your abilities against. Each one was chosen because of how unique a challenge they will represent.”

“Do I know any of these people?”

“Does it matter?” Cor's voice is flat.

Prompto gives a small laugh, “I guess not.”

* * *

He's half way through cutting the skin around the heel when it happens. A sharp pain throughout his torso and the sudden feeling of emptiness where the armigers magic once thrummed. He takes a steadying breath as his ammunition and guns clatter to the floor. He'd been good about keeping what he keeps in there clean and precise for this moment exactly. He shakes his head sharply to clear it of the sudden intrusion of _emotion_ and looks to Noctis.

Noctis who stares at him in anger and cuts out, “What the **fuck**.” But he sighs and shakes his head. Ignoring Noctis he starts gathering up and organizing everything that's fallen. He won't have access to any more potions but he can acquire some other ways. He picks up a metal box that had fallen corner down and frowns at the cracked hole it leaves in the floor. 

After making sure everything is gathered into one spot he turns to the king and approaches. The King stands and meets him half way. “Do you accept this offer?” As if there is still a chance to go back and be what he was before her.

_Prompto_ kneels. “I do.” Then he reaches out both hands in a cupping motion ahead of him. The crystalline magic of the line of Lucis swirls around the kings arms and pools around his hands. The King then places his hands over Promptos and Prompto recites the oath she had drilled into his head when he was told this was a possibility.

“I here, within the light of the King, accept my new position as his. His line of attack, his line of defense. His guard when he needs one and his shadow when he doesn't. I accept the responsibility given to me and hold the truths that I am borne to bear. I will hold no one being above the Crown and I will uphold the Crown. There is no law that stands in my way, no person who can supersede my King. My Kings will is my own and my desires lie with that of the Kings.” It's a long speech, drawn out and very precise in specifying that the _only_ person who Prompto will answer to from now in is the one right in front of him: the King. It's, poetic, to do this in front of so many people. To have so many bear witness to the start of a new shadow. But it means that many more people will know of him. But that's okay, and as he finishes his oath with a resounding, “For King and Crown; everything I am and everything I have is at the Crowns disposal. May you name me now.” Prompto feels relief at last because it's known now, and it's over and he can move on and just, _be_. Be what he is now, what the King will name him and whenever Noctis accepts that can move on being his friend as well.

“I accept your pledge and your loyalty. You are known to me and me alone. Your services that of my own order, your life my own.” There's a moment of deliberation where Prompto doesn't break eye contact. King Regis smiles but it's not as kind as it could be and Prompto knows whatever name he's going to be given specifically will be to intimidate the man behind him. “Rise zero-five-nine-five-three-two-three-four, and continue my work.” King Regis turns at that and settles back down. 05953234, newly named and cat out of the bag stands as he pulls the wrist band off and makes to walk back towards Glauca. But Noctis distracts him. Or rather, the fact that Ignis is whispering in his ear does. Ignis is probably the one who told Noctis to throw him out of the armiger because the shock might 'break him out' of whatever he was doing or maybe ten thousand other reasons but... 05953234 stares straight ahead and raises his voice.

“Does His Majesty have any question he would like answered?” He leaves his voice as soft and pleasant as it always is.

“Not at this moment but if you have anything to ask, please do.”

05953234 slowly makes his way down the rest of the stairs and says, “Thank you.” There's silence where barely contained anger is behind to the right of the throne and then. _Oh, Noctis._ “You didn't do this alone.” Glauca looks up from his mangled leg and locks eyes with him. 

“I. Won't. Tell. You. Anything.” Each words is punctuated by a pained heave.

05953234 lets his eyes settle over where the council sits, or rather, the few 'glaives and 'guards with enough clearance to witness this. He makes his way over to them, totaling about a dozen and makes uncomfortably long eye contact with each and every one of them. Some, like Nyx Ulric or Crowe Altius stare back defiantly. But there's one, one 'glave lieutenant whose eyes keep skittering horrified to Glauca and won't meet 05953234's eyes. He's rather young to be holding his position and if he's remembering right, was something of _Drautos'_ pet project. He puts a careful three feet between him and the 'glaive, then pounces. “And how long have you been a traitor for?”

Several things happen at once. Glauca explodes into curses, the man in front of him summons his weapon and Nyx Ulric tackles him to the ground with a snarl of “Lazarus!”. The man, Luche Lazarus, is quickly detained and placed near Glauca.

05953234 walks over to all his weaponry and places it into his now empty individualized armiger and settles back down to work on Glauca.

“What, not going to play with your new toy?” He's still trying for brave and it would be working if his voice wasn't shaking so much.

But 05953234 smiles, all dimples, all sunshine and sun kissed freckles. He answers with a soft laugh that causes Lazarus to choke, “I have to put my other toy away first.” 05953234 picks up a hammer and grabs a bag of nails. “I've never been good at puzzles though. I hope everything ends up back where it belongs.”

* * *

As it turns out, the six participants were told after they accepted that it would be a staged kidnapping and interrogation scenario. Anytime within the next year they might be taken and to relax because they wouldn't be taken if they seemed to be looking for it. So, when Prompto gets his first assignment, a slight woman chained to his table and drugged. He recognizes her as 'glaive. When he opens the door she spits out her name and rank and a final, “for King and Crown.”

Prompto recognizes her from a bar he's started to frequent. She's quiet but nice and he almost wants to feel bad. But... She did agree to this, so he pushes those thoughts aside as best he can.

Not so standard during interrogation, but standard in base form, Prompto's been given a list of information that he needs to acquire-to pass. No lasting damage, Cor will interrupt if Prompto goes too far and he has twelve hours to break her. He reads through her file while pacing around her because he's never done good without movement and notices her breaths shallow and quick every time he gets close. She lifts her head up to track him when he's out of direct eyesight. She's staring at him, obvious in her confusion. He knows he doesn't look like much. He wonders if she's like all the women near his apartment. The ones that whisper about hating being out at night because of all the terrible things that could happen. He imagines she isn't, if for nothing but the fact that she has a kill count higher than expected, but she's one with His Majesty's gift. He blindfolds her anyways. It has the desired effect. He breaks her in two hours.

She sings his praises, all soft comforts and even Cor looks, not fond, but something akin to it. But... “I've seen her at a bar,” He explains, “I've seen her say things, drunkenly, but, maybe I shouldn't have used that knowledge. I won't always have it.”

“No... you did good.” She scrutinizes him, “One day you may very well have to interrogate someone close to you. Think... Ignis or Gladiolus.” Prompto almost short circuits-he can't imagine either of them betraying Noctis. “Well, maybe not them, but... traitors are everywhere dear. It's good to use every ounce of knowledge you have to break them. Even better that you barely touched this woman- it's easier to deny your existence when you've left no proof of it.” Prompto nods, slowly. He understands, and...

“If Ignis or Gladio ever... if there were ever doubts... I would be the one to do it, right?”

“Of course.” Cors voice is a steady beat, “You'll know them best.”

The sessions are in quick succession after that. Which is fair, because someone will notice something if only one person every month or so goes missing and comes back catatonic. Prompto only feels bad when he hits up the bar next time and Altius manages to look at him for all of three seconds before vomiting. He stops going to that particular bar.

But then, sometimes they're on the table, other times a chair-different set-ups to test his abilities. He won't always have the garage to work in and sometimes one must make do. He has a steady streak of breaking them within half the time allotted when it happens. It being his first suicide. The forth person, a crownsguard who he had taken the most time to break, decided to take a stroll out his twenty-eighth story window. He attends the funeral, sits in the back and doesn't say a word to anyone. Before leaving he makes sure to slip several hundred crowns into the collection for the widow. The mans son, a little things who looks almost just like him stares with big eyes at the casket the entire time.

There's time then, between the fifth and the last. She tells him, _it was bound to happen eventually_ and _Don't worry yourself with the dead_ , but Prompto feels sick and holes himself inside his apartment, letting no one through. Not even Noctis, the person he's learning this for.

It's Cor that gets him to end his isolation. He states, simply, from the other side of Prompto's door that if it isn't open in two minutes he'll break it down. So Prompto opens the door and Cor closes it behind himself and then they stare.

“This isn't your first death.” Prompto opens his mouth, to, to, _**defend**_ himself but Cor plows on ruthlessly, “I've sent you on missions myself with 'guards, you've killed people from several hundred feet away and never reacted like this. What, did you think the targets we picked for you were all mechanical like the majority of the MT army of the Empire? You think they put robots in charge? You pretended they weren't people so you'd feel better but they lived and breathed and probably had kids just like Anderson. Ignorance isn't a blanket you get to hide under.” Prompto swallows harshly, and then Cor continues softer, kinder, “You cannot afford to let these deaths bother you. What you'll be asked to do, what you _will_ do requires that you have no reverence for human life. For any life.”

But _how_. Prompto doesn't think he can just, hurt people so much that they inevitably kill themselves and look himself in the eye every night. But Cor must see something on his face. He laughs and he laughs the way his wife does-sadly. As if there's nothing happy in the world. 

“Haven't you ever wondered why our home has no mirrors?”

* * *

Glauca, for all he's worth, tries not to scream as 05953234 starts to hammer ligaments and muscle back into place. He gives up sometime around 05953234 fingering the muscle around his tibia- or is this half the fibula- and screams, moans in pain but still holds steel to his eyes that 05953234 knows he'll have to worm around to break. He wonders, idly, how much time it'll take. There has to be more than one traitor. So he looks to the new specimen. 

The man is hyperventilating and looks like he's going to vomit. He doesn't have the luxury of a file on this person but he can get one. 05953234 stops for a moment and rests his head on his hand. He regrets it for a moment, tacky blood coming into contact with his face, but it serves to scare the younger man more.

“Hi.” 05953234 pitches his voice low, and lets himself showcase how content he is here to listen to a decorated war hero moan in agony. “You know, I think there's more than just you in the 'glaive ranks.”

Lazarus' eyes are blown wide, fear etched onto his face. “I just-”

“Stop!” Glauca hisses the word over several moments and fixes, or tries to fix, Lazarus with a glare. “Don't you dare-”

But hes easily shut up with a new nail struck into bone. 05953234 hears a crack, and part of the bone breaks loose. “A pity,” he muses, feeling the break. Every run of fingers over any part of the mans leg sends tremors up his body. But 05953234 looks back to Lazarus. “How well can _you_ handle pain?” He squeezes the muscle and bone of Glaucas leg until he's screaming, screaming, screaming-and then he isn't. Eyes closed, breaths ragged. Unconscious. 05953234 knows how he's going to break this man, or rather, how he's going to have to and brute force isn't it.

“ _Prompto what the fuck!?_ ” Noctis yells. 05953234 ignores him.

* * *

The last person Prompto breaks, his tests, before his _final_ is the one he's most proud of. The one that almost... got away as it were. When Prompto enters the man is coherent, a first. No drugs in his system. There's a spark of recognition as well. He's worked with this 'glaive before. Hell, Prompto _likes_ this 'glaive. But... Here he is, chained to hang from the ceiling, legs chained down to weights he can't hope to lift. All to keep him from getting any kind of upper hand. Prompto is told he _put up quite the fight_ , and that they've _had him a couple of days already_. 

His voice is labored but even when he says, “What are you doin' here freckles?” For a moment, Prompto stares but then flips through the file he's been given. Basic information, easily acquired by any internet search. Then he looks for the blanks he needs to fill in.

These are bigger blanks, harder openings to fill. “What is your relationship to the Crown?” Kingsglaive Ulric laughs a bit, almost hysterically, “Where are the weak points of the Prince's guard? Where can more information be found on the Crystal of Light? Where are your weapons held? What-”

“You for real Freckles?” He still uses the nickname he gifted Prompto. “I'm not gonna break kiddo.” There's an almost... competitive gleam in his eye. “I ain't gonna break.”

Prompto looks down to his list of questions, gathers the aura he needs to get into his own head space and when he looks up, into the 'glaives eyes, there's a glimmer of something scared. “Everyone breaks Nyx, there's no shame in it.” He holds his folder to himself like a shield for a moment, letting his feelings for the 'glaive break through. He likes Ulric, he likes the nicknames and the camaraderie. He also understands, with horrible clarity, why Nyx Ulric was accepted for this. “For what it's worth Nyx... It's nothing personal.”

But Nyx Ulric _isn't_ a man easily broken and Prompto learns it the hard way. He has twelve hours and normally after two he can find his baseline for lies versus truth and chip away until he gets what he wants. But Ulric is stubborn and sarcastic and words come fluttering back through his mind.

_“You are **never** in control, darling, and you are the **only** one in control.”_

He doesn't know what makes Nyx tick, he's never frequented the same bars, lived near him or even really see him in passing at the citadel. Several stealth missions aside, a few friendly jabs and nicknames, _aside_ , he knows nothing about this man. And after six hours Prompto is frustrated and, almost sulkily, starts to take it out on Nyx. Stops asking questions all together. Stops with his benign answers to Nyxs attempts at banter. He's just... angry. But it's a controlled anger. He's not _allowed_ to leave lasting damage. He spends precious minutes leveling even cuts down each of Nyxs sides so that every breath burns. He takes a knife and heats it up with a torch, burning the soles of his feet and makes him stand on them, places broken glass in strong leather gloves and forces them over his hands. It's petty and vindictive but Prompto isn't having any luck. So he tries a little bit of everything he can until Nyx finally snaps.

It's not what he was expecting. The man doesn't howl or beg- he just stares. Right into Prompto, right _through_ him. It's been nine hours, and the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of the man hanging from his abused arms.

“Do you want it to stop?” Prompto makes sure his voice is low, comforting, because Nyx is a spooked animal. Tears finally make their way down Nyxs face, and he nods. “I can stop, but you need to answer some questions for me.” Nyx's face tightens, and the tears come faster for a time. There's silence between them and Prompto carefully cards his hands through Nyxs hair. Blue eyes snap open and Nyx stutters. 

“Your name is Nyx Ulric, Kingsglaive, King and Crown?” A nod. “I need you to say it.” Nyx does, voice small, confirming what he'd spat at Prompto all that time ago. Interestingly enough, Nyx makes a sound when Prompto pulls his hand away and there's a startling realization. Nyx Ulric knows how to take a beating. But... kindness...

As long as Prompto keeps his hands soft and gentle and cleans and dresses the wounds he made... Nyx Ulric talks.

* * *

In the end it's pathetic and easy to break Lazarus. The man is horrified and scared and 05953234 gets everything he needs to weed out the rest of the traitors among the 'glaive and 'guard. When he has names, more than just he alone can work with, she joins him. Side by side they go through every traitor and start to gather a clear image of exactly what kind of plot the Empire had been concocting. Glauca is kept nearby, every ounce of pain either of them inflict on someone a promise to do the same but worse to him. He is, after all, the one that they need to break down the hardest. He's an enemy commander and the trove of information he has, the information he is... It's too great of an opportunity to pass up.

Somewhere along the way she starts calling him two-three-four and he bats his eyelashes and calls her mother and the person they're working on starts to sob out information. For several weeks his life is blood and ripping and pulling and _tearing_ and it's destructive.

When it's finally time for Glauca to be interrogated again, he takes the lead. He's let her in on his plan and she'd approved his methods. For hours they work him over, not really caring for information but with the intention of hurting. His cries are a bitter symphony of betrayal and suffering before 05953234 takes the plunge. He rests his hand on Glaucas forehead. The man has been a stuttering mess for several hours now. Presses hair behind an ear, scratches lightly at the base of his skull and whispers, “Do you want it to stop?”

As long as 05953234 keeps gentle hands on him-he talks.

* * *

“Kinda fucked up we broke the same way.” Ulrics voice is conversational, almost cheerful, not at all like the comparison he's speaking of. 

“Everyone breaks.” 05953234 repeats himself because it's true. Everyone breaks, the only thing that matter is how long it takes.

“Heard, uhh, heard the Prince turned you out.” 05953234 nods along, as if that whole scenario hadn't skewered him and left him smashing every mirror he owned. “Sorry.” A pause, “About that, uhh... It's, uhh, for King and Crown, right?”

“What are you doing here Nyx?” 05953234 smiles suddenly, hilariously, “What are you hoping to get out of a dead man?” Because Prince Noctis had all but pronounced him dead with his words and deeds, pulling everything from him and leaving him floundering, but... She'd prepared him for that too. He had no bank accounts, nothing electronic that could be taken from him. The King had already done most of the paperwork to kill him before Noctis had even spoken a word but... it was different. Regis is the man he'll torture and kill for. But for Noctis... If Noctis told him to walk off the wall he'd do it.

“You're... mother? ...The Marshal sent me. We, uhh, he said I'd make a good fit for you, I dunno what that meant exactly, but. As of yesterday you're an Ulric and we're married?” 05953234 looks at Ulric and actually... takes a moment to really look at him. Ulric hadn't treated him any differently after their... session. There had been stiffness and uncertainty at first, but, they'd glossed over it and moved on. There had been some hate sex involved, but, that was more for Ulric than anything. “I'm also not calling you by a string of numbers though, don't know why that- You have a name I don't understand why-”

“You can call me whatever you want.” He's smiling, teasing almost, “After all, I'm yours now, right?” He understands why she always teases Cor now. It's... easier than accepting the reality that he'll be nothing and no one until the day he really dies. If 05953234 needs to get attached... It should be to one **good** person. Like Cor, Like Ulric.

Nyx.

Nyx, whose nodding and holds out a ring. “I know it's the Lucian thing to do... but... I guess you're not really Lucian...?” 05953234 takes the ring and slides it on anyways, threads his fingers through Nyx's and pulls himself closer. 

“There's going to be a lot of people that hate you for agreeing to take me in.”

“What do you mean? Almost no one even knows what happened. As far as anyone is concerned you're dead-”

“Crowe Altius was my first test and I know you two are friendly.” Nyx does stiffen slightly at the omission. “I'd prefer to keep work at work but you need to know that some of the people you love do not love me. If you are really going to move forward with this arrangement you may even lose some of them.”

“Well... I guess that's why the Marshal has no friends...” It's muttered and not necessarily for 05953234's ears. 

05953234 knows this is going to be an ugly learning curve so he starts to lead Nyx towards a familiar nondescript house in a tiny suburb where two of the scariest people alive live. It'll be much easier to condition Nyx into enjoying what they're going to have if he sees first hand that it works. Or maybe 05953234 just wants to be near someone like himself for a bit-cold and cynical and angry under a happy golden exterior.

“Don't worry sweetheart, if all goes well, no one will even know I exist.” The words hold a bitterness to them that even 05953234 didn't expect.

* * *

The first time Prompto sees Nyx Ulric after he _interrogates_ him it's because they've been assigned to the same mission. Cor had mentioned his wife wanting Prompto to make up with someone and Prompto regrets bantering with her about the lovely success sex Nyx and he had enjoyed over and over. Emotions run high when you're always close to death, sue him.

But Nyx stares and although awkward and stiff they manage to slip into being a great tag team for this mission. Nyx gets the information, Prompto assassinates the target. It's an easy mission, too easy almost. The information is under laughable guard at best and the target doesn't have guard at all. They slip from border to border gathering a few days reprieve in Accordo.

They share a room with one bed by Promptos design because, “Wanna fuck?” and Nyx has him slammed against a wall before he can finish the question. But this isn't the fun kind of wall slamming. There's not hatred but anger in those blue eyes of Nyx's and Prompto just raises an eyebrow.

“You-!” But Nyx cuts himself off. “Why, you, the-” He's not coherent in his rage but Prompto knows he can work with that.

“We don't have to go back to being super friendly or anything if you don't wanna. Like I said Nyx, it was nothing personal.” The grip around him loosens some what. “If you want...” He trails off until Nyx looks him in the eyes, less anger and more hurt than anything. “You can hurt me back.”

It's all Nyx needs. They lose the three day lead they had on getting home but get back on better ground and when the reports are made she looks at Prompto smiling. He doesn't understand why it had mattered so much to her that he made up with Nyx but he's glad.

It's not quite a relationship but Nyx Ulric becomes Prompto Argentum's partner on missions exclusively. Prompto thinks after while that... Nyx might even enjoy it.

* * *

Cor Leonis is his final test. Prompto has no time line. After all in a real scenario the Immortal goes missing for months at a time and no one bats an eyelash. There's no time restraint, but he's not allowed to leave lasting damage. Prompto has been working with her, Cors wife, _his mentor_ , for almost five years. He shuts off the part of himself that likes Cor and hones in on all the information he knows about him. It isn't much but it's much more than most people are privy to. He doesn't know his fears or discomforts and being with the woman he's with Prompto wonders if he's done this before for her. If he's let himself be chained down and made and unmade and broken into a million little pieces just to be sloppily glued back together. He wonders if Cor had considered it training, if the reason he has no remorse for the people that end themselves after either Prompto or his wife get their hands on them is because he's lived through this and worse and never tried to end it. He's repeated it, maybe.

Prompto looks over the basic file he's given and the information that's wanted from this prisoner. It's so easy to get lost in the fact that this man is supposedly immortal, that he's hard and cold and a killer at the core... But... Prompto knows so much more now than he ever knew before. He knows so... so much.

* * *

05953234 leaves for an assassination mission for King Regis eight years later, killing the Emperor and ending the war, if only for the moment, and when he returns to make his report King Noctis Lucis Caelum regards him coldly. King Regis finally succumbing to the illness that had taken hold three years prior. He hums thoughtfully but gives his report none the less, laying the bare bones state of the Empire, producing the documents and information that had been wanted and easily hands them off to Kingsglaive Ulric who stands in a uniform different from the one he wore before 05953234 left.

Promotion then? Cor Leonis _is_ startlingly absent. 

Gladiolus stands to the right flank of the King and Ignis to the left. In a different life Prompto would have been up there with them. He lets himself imagine it for a moment, being the stupid goofball he always was before this started. How easy it was to let himself be entertainment because he loves Noctis even still. Wants him safe and protected. He'd be farther back, he thinks, with a better vantage point because he's a sniper at heart and he'd need the ability to see the room at it's fullest.

But that isn't this life. In this life 05953234 loves his King so much he finds it almost hard to believe how much he hates him as well. 05953234 doesn't know when the hatred had eclipsed the love. 

His King swallows and begins to ask questions, and 05953234 answers them easily. Almost as if there's nothing different from this debrief than any other one he's been in. Both of them are short and clipped. It's a slow process, 05953234 being aggressively obtuse and making the King ask very specific questions to get his answers. In the end the room stands still, the air heavy and emotionally charged. 05953234 can sense that Noctis wants to say something else and eventually he does.

Brokenly, sadly, _horribly_ , “Why?” whispered through tears.

“Because I love you.” It's easy to say now, years of distancing himself from the emotions finally reaching it's benefit. “For King and Crown.” He's almost proud of the fact that his voice doesn't waver, that he remains standing and tall and... well... proud. He turns then, not really needing a dismissal. Everyone in this room knows where his loyalty lies, where his loyalty has always been. He nods to Nyx, who gives a slightly amused smile in response and heads out the door.

* * *

_**“I'm sorry Prompto. For everything my son will put you through.”** _

* * *

It takes Prompto three weeks to crack the Immortal.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [tumblr](http://casualfarming.tumblr.com/)?


End file.
